


Promises To Keep

by SavIsWriting



Category: In the Company of Shadows - Sonny & Ais
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavIsWriting/pseuds/SavIsWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Set during the 1/27 timeline)</p><p>The doctors and medical staff at the Agency are the only guardians Emory Vega has ever known since he was born in the labs. He doesn't think his life will ever be anything else but tests, shots and isolation. But when an act of violence forces Emory from his sheltered life, he’s startled to meet Micah and other fellow child soldiers with dangerous ideas about the Agency and its leader, Marshall Stone. </p><p>Micah claims Emory is a powerful Mod, who Stone is trying to control. Emory doesn't know anything about the rare and destructive power Micah says he possesses, but when he's given promises of freedom and protection, Emory must decide who to trust—the Agency who he's always relied upon, or Micah who despises them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clandestine

 

The child stared at the wall in silence as he waited.

In the big white room he sat on a metal table, wearing a pale blue gown which was decorated with tiny purple elephants. His bare feet swung idly back and forth while Dr. Aeron Kingsley, a short distance away, fiddled with his sharp needles and quietly murmured to himself.

The boy could hear the man's heartbeat while he worked. The soft _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart calmed him slightly even though he knew he was about to get another shot today. He hated shots. He hated how sick he felt after getting them.

A soft sigh escaped him and the man looked over, a apologetic smile on his kind face.

"I'm sorry, Emory. I'm done now. Ready?"

The boy lifted his small shoulders in a shrug, "I guess so."

Dr. Kingsley took one syringe and a small bottle of liquid along with a box of band-aids over to the table. He placed them next to the child and the boy lifted his right arm, use to the procedure.

Emory wanted to close his eyes but somehow couldn't look away as Dr. Kingsley put the tip of the needle into the top of the bottle and watched as the syringe filled with bluish liquid. He made his small hand into a fist and didn't pull away as the man gently steadied his arm and injected him with the substance.

Almost immediately Emory felt light-headed and sleepy. He almost fell face first off the table after Dr. Kingsley put a band-aid over where the needle had pierced him but was quickly caught by the Doctor and laid down, the man frowning slightly at him..

"Dizzy?"

Emory fought to keep his eyes open, "...yes."

"Well, maybe some sugar will wake you up perhaps? I have to do do your blood work and physical first, and then you can take a nap. Sound good?"

The child opened his mouth to say _Are you asking or telling me?_   but then stopped. He liked Dr. Kingsley. He was nice. He wasn't mean to Emory, like the others were. So instead he nodded and watched as the Doctor pulled open a drawer filled with miniature wrapped candy. He took out a small handful and helped Emory down from the table so he could sit in the big, cozy chair against the wall.

Once seated, Dr. Kingsley gave the candy to Emory and looked at him for a moment before asking, "Would you like some juice with that?"

Emory nodded, "Yes please."

"Apple?"

"Yes."

Dr. Kingsley chuckled as he walked to the small fridge next to his desk, "You remind me of my daughter, Emory. She has a sweet tooth as well."

Emory looked up from the candy he had just unwrapped, "Your daughter?"

"Yes. She's a few years older than you."

Emory thought about that for a moment before asking, "Where is she?"

Dr. Kingsley opened a small carton of apple juice and placed the straw in the opening for Emory before sitting down across from him.

"She's at home. With her mother."

 

The boy sipped his juice and stared at the floor, a small frown on his face. He started to say something and then stopped, looking down at the candy in his lap.

"What? What is it, Emory?"

Emory looked at the Doctor and hesitated slightly before asking, "Do other kids get to stay with their parents?"

Dr. Kingsley's eye slid away for a moment, unsure if he should continue with this conversation but feeling he must. Because it wasn't fair. Not for Emory.

"Yes. Most children...stay with their parents." He watched as the child struggled with whatever it was he wanted to say.

"...then where are mine?" Emory asked in a voice small. "Why...why am I..."

_Why am I alone?_

Dr. Kingsley felt his chest tighten and couldn't help but look away. He would be punished if those in high command knew he released any important information to Emory surrounding his origins. They didn't want him to think about such things, let alone know any of it. They wanted him to be a a puppet, a weapon, a pawn that only they could influence.

But Dr. Kingsley knew he couldn't lie or ignore the child. He couldn't brush off a subject that obviously weighed heavily on him. Too many times he had already failed the boy. Failed to protect him from the insidious Agency. The least he could do was be honest.

"Emory," The Doctor leaned forward and rested his hand on one of the boy's shoulders. He looked up and met his eyes, his expression hopeful.

"Your parents can't be with you because of certain... _specific_ circumstances. Nothing can be done about it, I'm afraid. I'm sorry." Kingsley struggled to maintain eye contact but it was hard. Those eyes...those piercing eyes seemed to see right through him sometimes, making him feel vulnerable, transparent.

Emory's eyes lowered, his face full of disappointment. It pained Kingsley to not be able to elaborate more but he knew it was risky to talk about the truth with this child. If the Marshall found out, he would ban Kingsley from ever working on this "project" again. He had already been looking for an excuse to keep him away from Emory for over a year now.

Kingsley didn't think Emory would speak again until he heard him ask, "How old is she?"

"Who?"

Emory looked up, his lips slightly turned down at the sides, "Your daughter. How old is she?"

"Oh, she's ten. Just turned ten last month, actually."

Emory seemed to take in that bit of information for a moment before turning his gaze to Kingsley's face again and asked, "What's her name?"

 _Stop_ a voice in Kingsley's head said. He knew the rules. He - and others in the lab - weren't supposed to become 'attached' or be 'affectionate' towards experiment 014...whose name was also Emory. Kingsley had already broken those rules quite some time ago. He couldn't kill the affection that had grown for Emory over the years, and he couldn't deny that he had become attached too. Divulging personal information would be another broken rule. But at that moment, Kingsley didn't care.

"Her name is Hannah." Kingsley said.

"Hannah," Emory repeated the name, as if testing the sound of it. "Why did you name her that?"

"Well, because we liked it," Kingsley answered, laughing softly.

"What about me?" Emory asked, "Who named me?"

 _Ah_ , Kingsley thought. _Clever boy_. He could tell Emory had purposefully steered the conversation back to his parents to try and get any more information out of him. He didn't really blame him.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. I think it was one of the higher ups who made the decision." Kingsley said.

He watched the boy as he looked down at his lap where his candy lay discarded. He picked one up, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. And then Kingsley said something he really shouldn't have.

"But I do know...that your name was chosen specifically." Kingsley turned towards the metal tray near him and picked up another syringe and a band-aid. He glanced at Emory and saw that the child was watching him, either waiting to see if he'd continue talking or trying to determine if he was telling the truth.

Emory held out his arm for Kingsley to take his blood and watched as the small tuble filled with his blood. No crying. Not even a flinch. The boy's eyes narrowed slightly as the doctor finished and put another band-aid on him.

"Why was it chosen?" he asked.

Kingsley stopped what he was doing and looked at Emory. Really looked at him. He took in the bronze skin. The fine black hair that framed his face. The high cheekbones, small, aristocratic nose. Green eyes.

"In a way, you were named after your Grandfathers, Emory. The fathers of your father."

The boy's eyes widened and searched Kingsley's face for any deception but he wouldn't find any because this was the truth. He needed to hear it, Kingsley could tell that much.

"What are their names?" It came out as more of a demand than a question. Kingsley couldn't help but smile at that.

"Emilio and Zachary." Kingsley knew he should stop talking right now but he couldn't. Not with Emory's face filled with wonder and delight.

"Emilio. Zachary." His lips lifted in a small, pleased smile. "My Grandfathers. I have Grandfathers?"

"Yes. Yes, you do."

"They...they are my father's...? I...have a father?" Emory asked.

Kingsley saw tears in his eyes and knew he'd done the right thing. He had to help this boy. In whatever way he could. He would start by telling him the truth.

"Yes. Your father is a man named Hsin Liu Vega."


	2. Epoch

Emory did not have a typical child's room.

It consisted of four white walls, a bed with leather straps one both sides, a small table that was bolted to the floor, a toilet in the corner, a shower stall squeezed next to it and a stack of books on the floor near his bed. That was it. No windows or toys or TV.

Not that Emory would even know what those things were, really. He'd only read about them in his books, which were, to him, all he needed or wanted. But that wasn't entirely true. He wouldn't mind having one other thing.

_"You're father is a man named Hsin Liu Vega."_

Emory had replayed the conversation he'd had with Dr. Kingsley over and over for a week. He knew his father's name now. And his Grandfathers'...and why they weren't with him, or even knew about his existence. Kingsley assured him that if they did, they would have come for him.

According to Kingsley, his father and a friend of his had worked at the Agency a few years ago. They loved each other. They didn't want to stay there anymore so they left, which _is not_  allowed, (even Emory knew that much) and have been hiding ever since. 

_"Will they ever come back?"_ Emory had asked.

_"Willingly? Absolutely not."_ Kingsley answered

Now, all Emory could think of were imaginary scenarios where his father returned and took him away from this place. He imagined what he looked like. An older, bigger version of himself, probably. Kingsley said Emory was the spitting image of his father. That made Emory smile.

He curled into a ball on his bed, a hand reaching out and running over the only childish possession he owned; a purple stuffed dragon that had been given to him a couple years ago by Dr. Connors. He pulled it close and hugged it to his chest, closing his eyes and wondering what it'd be like to be outside, to feel the sun and wind and see birds or hear cars or any of the things he had read about in his books.

The _beep-beep_ sound of the door being unlocked and opened had Emory sitting up straight and hiding his stuffed dragon under the sheets. He had learned long ago that it wasn't smart to show attachment to anything here.

It was a guard who stood in his doorway and Emory recognized him. Henry. For the past few months he was the one who came to escort Emory to his doctor appointments, classes and to the observation room. He never had the same guard for more than a few months at a time. He wore the same dark grey, nondescript clothing he saw a lot of other guards and some of the medical staff wearing. His browns eyes flitted across the room before landing on Emory, and beckoned him over with a wave of his hand.

"Come on, kid. Let's go."

Emory scooted off his bed and padded over to him, not bothering with shoes because he didn't even own a pair. The labs and his room were never cold, and the floors were heated. Plus, he didn't go outside so there was "no need for them", or so he had been told.

Henry ushered Emory into the hall before closing and locking his room door. He then turned and started walking down the corridor but waited until Emory fell into step beside him before speaking.

"Hey, kid"

"Hi, Henry." Emory craned his neck up to look at Henry's face. "What am I doing today?"

"Something in the Observation room. I think it's something pretty important for the top dogs to be there."

Emory's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "Top dogs?"

Henry nodded, "Yeah, the Marshall, General Lange, Instructor Williams...so try to do your best in there, yeah?"

Emory didn't really know what that meant, but they had already arrived at the entrance of the Observation room so he nodded and went inside where his teacher, Carlos - who was always very strict and gruff with Emory - was waiting.

The Observation room was a large area dedicated to training and exercising. The walls were covered in thick, black padding and a assortment of weapons littered one side of the wall, most of them blunt and dulled versions of the real thing. A wide glass window was on a wall at the front of the room, and even though Emory couldn't see inside, he always felt the weight of someone's gaze on him.

Emory usually came here three times a week. Thinking it was another regular class, he started to make his way to the weapon rack to do his warm-up exercises but Carlos stopped him.

"No, we're doing something different today." Carlos snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground next to him.

Emory walked over until he was right next to Carlos and waited for instructions. His heart beat a little faster than usual, not quite knowing what to expect but also excited and nervous for something new.

"Remember our target practice the other day?" Carlos asked. 

"Yes sir."

"We're going to do something like that today, but different." Carlos glanced towards the window, and the lights dimmed suddenly. Emory looked over to the window too, and felt eyes on him.

_I think it's something pretty important for the top dogs to be there for._

Were the "top dogs" behind that window? Were they here to watch Emory?

Carlos looked down at him and stared hard, "There will be holograms popping up in a few seconds. I want you to shoot at every person who looks hostile or poses a threat. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"And I don't mean just shoot them. Take them out. Make sure they stay down. Got it?"

Emory thought he did so he said again, "Yes sir."

Carlos nodded and pulled something from behind his back. A glossy black gun was handed to him. It had a slightly different weight to it than the others he had used before, but Emory took it and held it the way he was taught; out and away from his body, slightly tilted towards the ground with his hands holding the base of it firmly.

Carlos walked towards the door but didn't leave. Instead, he leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest. Then the lights went almost completely off and tiny, bright yellow lights danced across the room before suddenly focusing on one spot on the ground until they materialized into a woman who looked very real except for the yellow hue on her skin. She looked frightened and backed away from Emory with her hands held slightly in the air.

_Not a threat_ , Emory decided. He turned away from the hologram to see another a few yards away. A man with a mask held a knife and stalked towards Emory.

_Threat._

Emory shot him cleanly in the head and the man fell to the ground instantly like a puppet who's strings were cut.

The sound of a weapon being cocked behind him made him spin around and aimed at two men with guns charging at him. He sent one bullet into one of the men's head and rolled out of the way of the other's line of fire and shot him in the hollow of his throat. They both fell to the ground.

It continued that way for a while. Emory dispatching hostiles while ignoring those who posed no threat. But at one point Emory had been crowded against a wall by several hostiles and had planted his feet against the wall and pushed off, using the momentum to back-flip through the air, shooting and taking out the holograms below him. That's when he heard them.

_"Incredible."_ A voice said.

_"I told you this was a worth while investment."_ Another voice responded.

_"This much in only a few years? How is it possible..?"_ The first voice said again.

_"He definitely takes after his progenitor. He will surpass him."_ The second voice stated. 

The voices were slightly muffled but Emory could hear them. He wanted to look towards the glass window but felt he shouldn't. He was almost certain the voices were coming from there. Were they talking about him?

The lights abruptly brightened and Carlos was walking towards him with a smug grin.

"Well done, Emory." He took the gun from him and patted his head.

_Don't touch me_ , he wanted to say but instead forced out, "Thank you, sir."

_"Well? Have you decided?"_ Emory heard one of the voices ask. 

_"Yes. We will have him fight a real opponent next. If he does well, he will join the other cadets immediately."_


	3. Quietus

Emory was curled into a ball on his bed as he waited. He knew someone, probably Henry, would be there soon to collect him and take him to the training room. He felt sick. He hadn't had any sleep the night before thanks to a particularly disturbing, vivid dream. His whole body wouldn't stop shaking and he didn't know why. He didn't want to fight anyone. That much he knew.

Holograms were all he'd ever trained against. The idea of having to fight an actual person, who he was supposed to hurt, and who could hurt him...He didn't know if he could even do it. His teacher, Carlos, had told him how important this fight would be. He had said there would be no room for failure.

Emory squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on keeping his breathing controlled and regular like Dr. Connors had taught him. Count to ten. Breathe in. Count to ten again. Breathe out.

"Please," he whispered, his mind's eye conjuring up an image of what his father might look like. A tall, strong man with black hair and green eyes who radiated power. Who would come and rescue Emory one day. _Please take me away from here._

The door to his room being unlocked and opened made Emory want to hide under his bed but he knew it'd be useless. So instead he sat up and slid off the bed to stand in front of Henry.

The guard looked at Emory for a moment before walking into the room and setting a bundle of clothes on the floor.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hi, Henry."

Henry knelt beside the clothes he'd brought and started setting them on the bed. "I was told you have to wear these. It's armor. It will keep you from getting hurt."

Emory stared at the gear with resignation, "Oh."

"You..." Henry looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, his expression forced nonchalance, "You'll be alright, kid. I'm betting on you." 

Emory nodded, smiling faintly, "Okay."

A few minutes later and Emory was suited up and walking down the hallway to the training room. The armor felt weird against his skin and the steel-toed boots he had to wear were hard to get used to after years of walking around barefoot. 

Carlos was waiting just outside the doors to the training room and watched as they approached. He nodded at Henry, who glanced briefly toward Emory before leaving the two together. His quiet steps the only sound in the otherwise empty hallway.

"Do you realize how important this test is?" Carlos asked.

"Yes, sir, I do." 

"You do everything you can to win this match. You cannot fail, understand?"

"I understand, sir. I will win." Emory stared at his boots, not trusting his expression to match the confidence in his words. 

"Good. Let's go." He turned and they entered the training room together.

Inside, two people stood in the middle of the room and as they drew closer, Emory was shocked to realize one of them was a child. The girl appeared no older than twelve, but her body language and expression spoke of a maturity far beyond her age. She was dressed in the same body armor as Emory. Her long blonde hair was in a braid, her icy blue eyes were narrowed at Emory, lip curling slightly.

The animosity on her face made her elfin features appear somewhat sinister. Emory thought he saw a flash of something in those blue eyes of hers. Something that made him shiver.

A woman stood next to the girl, with short brown hair and brown eyes that looked at Emory with boredom.

"This is super boy? Are you kidding me?" The girl said.

"Sasha, behave," The woman drawled, even though her face said she partially agreed.

Carlos stared at Sasha for a moment before shaking his head to himself, "Emory, this is Sasha. Sasha, Emory."

Emory slowly put his hand out to her but lowered it when all she did was sneer at him.

"Emory? That sounds like a girl's name. Are you sure he isn't a girl?" Sasha smirked at Emory as she spoke, arms crossed over her chest.

The two adults didn't seem impressed with the preteen's disdain and opted to ignore her. Carlos went over the rules for the fight and Emory paid close attention to every word.  
There was no time limit. Whoever stayed down for longer than 30 seconds first, would lose. Only blunt weapons were allowed and they were only allowed to choose two weapons throughout the fight. 

"Good luck you two," Carlos said as he and the woman walked away.

Emory glanced at the window on the far side of the wall and knew people were watching them. If he lost, what would happen to him? What if he won?

The girl, Sasha, shifted her stance slightly and that was enough to bring Emory out of his thoughts. He had to focus. The girl was older and possibly, stronger. He had to do his best because he didn't know what awaited him if he failed.

A voice filtered through the room, cool and monotone: "Choose your weapons now."

Sasha was striding across the room to the weapon rack before Emory had even processed the words. He quickly caught up to her and looked at the weapons he could choose from. His eyes lingered on the sharper weapons before focusing on the blunt, non-lethal ones. He reached up to take a staff just as Sasha grabbed a pair of tonfa. They both returned to stand in the middle of the room, only ten feet apart from each other and waited for further instructions.

The voice returned again: "Begin."

Sasha moved like lightning and was on Emory in an instant. She raised her tonfa above her head to slam them down across Emory's collarbone. Emory gasped, pain like nothing he had ever experienced before spread over him and he was momentarily frozen. Sasha didn't give him time to recover as she turned her body and delivered a sidekick in the chest, sending him flying several feet across the room. 

Emory landed awkwardly on his staff, a pained grunt escaping him. He looked up in time to see Sasha coming at him and was able to raise his staff up just as she tried to bring her tonfa down on him again. She pressed forward and leaned close to his face, a wicked smile on her face.

"I'm going to kill you." She hissed.

Emory's eyes widened as his heart sped up. _Kill?_

"Why so surprised?" Sasha asked, eyebrows raising slightly. "Don't tell me you didn't know."

Emory pushed his staff back against her tonfa and kicked her hard in the stomach, getting her far away enough so that he could jump up and move out of striking distance.

Sasha was slightly bent over as she tried to suck in air, eyes narrowed at Emory and hands clenched tight on her tonfa.

"What are you talking about?" Emory asked, though he felt he might not want to know the answer.

Sasha grinned, "Really? You don't know? Oh, poor baby..."

Emory held his staff in front of him, expression dark as he watched Sasha slowly circle him like a shark. "Don't know _what_?"

"Killing our opponents is allowed." Sasha said.

"You're lying. They told us that whoever stays down-"

"-For more than 30 seconds, loses? Yeah. That's true. But that's only to decided a winner. If it comes down to it, killing is also an option." She smiled at him, a nasty, mean expression.

"You're lying." He said again, but somehow knew she wasn't.

He looked at the glass window and wondered if the people behind it cared whether he died or not. Was that how his short life would end? Being killed by this girl? In this room?

"No, actually, I'm not." Sasha moved toward him and this time Emory striked first, swinging his staff around to hit her right arm but she had already lifted her tonfa to block the hit. She swung at his face with her other tonfa and Emory dodged the blow before headbutting her.

If knew he should have felt pain from that but all he felt was a dull ache. Blood poured out of Sasha's nose and she cursed at him.

"You little brat. You think you're something special, I bet." She twirled her tonfa around as she licked the blood off her face.

"Pampered little Agency pet. They talk about you as if you're the most important thing around," She edged forward a little which caused Emory to jerk backward, startled. She smiled.

"Stay away from me," Emory said, not being able to fully hide the tremor in his voice.

"You scared?" Sasha laughed.

"No."

"You should be, cause I really am going to kill you. And you know what? No one will care. You have no family, no friends," She lashed out with one of the tonfa and Emory blocked it with one end of his staff.

"You will disappear. It will be as if you never existed."

Suddenly, Emory felt something in his chest twist and start to ache. He clutched at his chest, wincing, "You're wrong. I do have family."

"Ha! You mean the Monster? Your _father_? He's not your family."

"Yes he is!" The ache in his chest intensified, his vision was starting to get blurry.

"He doesn't even know you _exist_. And even if he did, guess what? He wouldn't want you."

"Stop it.." The words sounded like they were spoken underwater. Emory felt his body swaying, the pain in his chest getting worse with every breath he took. His blood felt like molten lava.  
"He wouldn't want you, Emory. No one else does, either," Sasha frowned mockingly at him. "Poor thing. I'll put you out of your misery."

She was on him in a heartbeat. She knocked away his staff, threw away her tonfa and wrapped her hands around his neck and he _couldn't breathe._ The pain was too much. He stared up into her smiling, gleeful face and that's when his vision turned red. That's when his body moved of it's own volition. When he lost control.

He didn't remember how it happened, but in one moment he was on his back and the next Sasha was on _her_ back, and his hands were around _her_ neck. Sasha's eyes were big and round and full of shock. She had underestimated him.

Sasha started clawing viciously at his face and he felt blood running down his forehead and cheeks but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His hand was moving by itself it seemed and suddenly it was squeezing Sasha's arm violently and then bones were snapping and there was a terrible, high-pitched scream. He couldn't stop. 

He should have felt pain when she leaned up and bit him on the neck but he felt nothing. His fists were started hitting her over and over again. He heard voices, felt hands on him... He couldn't stop. The body underneath him struggled helplessly at first and then eventually went limp. Blood was everywhere. It was on his hands, his face, the floor...and what was left of Sasha's face was only a ruined mess of skull fragments and brains. Distantly he heard a woman scream, _"Sasha!"_

That was the last thing Emory remembered before the world went black.


End file.
